


birthday tacos

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Disabled Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, Defining the Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Food, Future Fic, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Phil Coulson, Romance, Safehouses, Shower Sex, implied mention of Lincoln, they are both human disasters, this was supposed to be about Coulson having a nice bday but it's all about Daisy's issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7437997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson wasn't expecting any gifts for his birthday this year. Daisy has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	birthday tacos

He needs a shower, and to find some food.

For now he slumps on the chair of the safe house, exhausted once he comes down from the adrenaline rush of the mission. He will lie low for a few hours here, until he knows the dust is settled. He closes his eyes and for a moment he believes himself to be about to fall asleep at the desk, but then there’s a knock on the door.

He panics for a moment, because no one is supposed to know where he is, then the knock comes back and it’s a familiar pattern.

Coulson gets up and goes to the door. 

Daisy slides inside as soon as he opens it.

“Hey,” she greets him, walking past him, like they greet each other like this everyday.

Coulson blinks at her, confused.

They haven’t seen each other in a while, but Coulson feels awkward going for a hug, and Daisy seems a bit breathless. She is wearing one of her mission suits and she looks sharp and focused.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. 

She presents a couple of plastic bags. 

“I thought you’d be hungry after your long mission,” she says.

The information is fluid between them. He doesn’t know everything she does on her side of the fight, but they are in constant contact, and they are in semi-regular _contact_.

Coulson sits on the desk again and examines the contents. A ton of stuff from El Pescado Loco.

“Happy birthday,” Daisy mutters, sounding touchingly shy about it.

She drops a kiss on top of his head, uncharacteristically casual about touching. He tenses up a bit - after a couple of months of meeting Daisy like this he can’t shake the feeling that maybe she entered their new relationship (even in his head he tries to keep the definition ambiguous, because anything else would be unfair to her) without being quite ready for it, or worse, without wanting it that much. He feels guilty about not prodding the difference between the two right now.

“But it’s unfair,” he says, heartbroken that she did this for him. “Your birthday was last week and I didn’t go to see you.”

“You couldn’t,” she tells him. “We were both on a mission. This is not… I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

He had called her on their encrypted line on her birthday and they had spent almost hours talking that night. It still wasn’t enough. He would have wanted to be there with her. And now she comes does this… He had fully expected to spend his birthday alone. Which would have been okay, it’s not a day he looks forward to anymore.

“Thanks for the birthday tacos,” he says, gathering the food in his hand.

Daisy shakes his head.

“Why don’t you grab a quick shower while I set the table?” she offers.

He nods, a hot shower after a long, gruelling day of pretending to work for the ATCU but really working for the not-really-disbanded SHIELD sounds heavenly right now.

Daisy pats his back encouragingly as he gets up and Coulson feels the exhaustion of the day ebb away in a moment at the perspective of spending a few hours (he hopes it’s a few hours at least) with her.

 

+

 

It’s not been thirty seconds since he got into the shower and Coulson is up in his own head, his body happily humming with the familiar feeling of relieved tension, not thinking about anything really, just feeling blessed and rejuvenated - pun intended - that Daisy is nearby. He lathers his body with soap and he starts humming himself for real too, some 80s tune the radio was playing this morning.

He turns around when he hears the shower door click open - but his body no longer reacts to the noise with panic - and finds Daisy standing in front of him, naked, water splashing the outline of her strong shoulders. She looks beautiful but...

“What are you doing-?”

“Another birthday present,” she says, pressing her mouth against his as Coulson steps back, the water falling on their faces. She slides her tongue inside his mouth immediately, forcing him to open up.

He knows that Daisy being sexually aggressive is not necessarily a good thing.

“You don’t have to-”

She shuts him up, running her hands over his chest as she kisses him again, deeper and slower this time, working his mouth patiently.

An unexpected shiver runs down Coulson’s body at the intimacy and how much more naked than usual he feels right now under her hands, as he explores his body.

They have never had sex in the shower before, neither had Daisy really touched his stump like this before. His new prosthetic is perfectly water resistant but Coulson likes to take it off when he gets into the shower anyway. The hot water relieves some of the pressure he feels all day. Daisy doesn’t seem to mind, even though this is quite new for them. They don’t see each other that often, and they still have so many things to do together, so many things to explore…

Daisy draws her teeth across his shoulder, while her right hand drops to Coulson’s belly.

“Daisy…” he mutters when he feels himself growing half-hard despite the exhaustion and the fifty-three years.

He swallows, making out her name with the tongue pressed against the roof of the mouth.

Daisy - _Daisy_ \- grabs his hips and slides, carefully, to the floor of the shower, grabbing his budding erection with one hand.

“What are you do-? _Oh_.”

Daisy takes his cock into her mouth, pressing her tongue playfully against the underside, and they have only done this once before - a lazy, not entirely successful attempt at a 69 when Daisy got injured and was stuck in a safe house like this for three days. It feels good (well, obviously, it feels spectacular) but Coulson gets the uncomfortable feeling there’s so story behind this, and thinks about all the things Daisy probably did for her previous lovers, the things she believed she had to do for them.

“You’re so nice,” he lets out, blowjob brain, because he’s not sure if he means her mouth is nice or everything about her is, or what, right now.

Daisy pulls off with a smile, fingers firmly wrapped around Coulson’s cock as she gets up to look him in the eye.

“Yes, that’s me,” she says. “I’m Miss Very Nice.”

He realizes it sounds a bit absurd, giving the frightened awe with which everyone talks about _Quake_ in the news, but he keeps thinking it as she presses herself against him and kisses him and makes him taste himself on her mouth, that she is really very nice. She is very nice to him, anyway.

“We’re wasting a lot of water,” Coulson comments, incongruously, while she strokes his cock with a slow, patient pace.

Daisy steps back with a smirk, pressing her back against the glass.

“Live a little,” she says, beckoning him to her side.

Coulson stops caring about water waste. He stops noticing the water altogether, ducking a bit to catch Daisy’s mouth with his, her lips slippery and hot.

She guides his cock between her legs, rubbing the tip against her clit.

“Fuck, oh god,” Coulson mutters, because he hasn’t felt something so erotic in years.

Daisy fixes him a challenging look.

“Do you want to fuck me, Phil?”

He blinks.

“You don’t have to-”

She tilts her head, a bit annoyed.

“Come on, Agent Coulson, play along,” she tells him.

She once told him, a couple of months after their first time together, he’s too careful with her, that he should trust her more. He had protested at the wording; she is the person he trusts the most in the world. He just didn’t get it. She had meant trust that she knew what she wanted, that he didn’t have to walk on eggshells just because of what happened before in her life, before she decided to be with him like this, in a way Coulson never anticipated their relationship would go.

He runs his right hand across her shoulder, curling his fingers around the curve. 

He sighs against Daisy’s mouth, admitting, “I want to fuck you” and Daisy pulling a little triumphant smile and she breaks the kiss and turns around, pressing her breasts against the glass wall. She bends a little, her ass seeking and finding the hard curve of Coulson’s cock. He groans, grabbing her hips with one hand, wishing he had kept the prosthetic on so he could do this better. Daisy waits for him, he remembers she said this was his birthday presents, he still is not entirely comfortable with the notion of “birthday sex” though he knows it’s a thing people do for their partners. He positions himself and pushes into her more easily than usual.

“Oh Daisy,” he says, a little helplessly, when she spreads her legs so he can push deeper, and his mouth falls over her nape, a tangle of muscles, water and hair.

The mechanics of it are a bit complicated; Coulson has always had fantasies about shower sex, but he obviously didn’t remember the reality of it too well. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy it - he enjoys the warm water falling on his back and the way Daisy turns her head so he can kiss her cheek as he thrusts into her - it’s just that in a few minutes his legs hurt like hell.

Daisy helps speed things along, reaching between her legs to vibrate the air right over where their bodies meet. They both come hard, together, gathering themselves quickly so they don’t slip down in the shower. Coulson turns her around, arm around her waist and kisses her greedily when it all ends, forgetting his tendency to be too careful, kissing her like he really believed Daisy wants him.

 

+

 

Afterwards they sit on the couch with the food in front of them. It has gone cold but as they said… Pescado Loco, best served _reheated_. They find some comfortable clothes to change into and they attack the tacos, starved after their little shower meeting.

Coulson lets Daisy have all the little pork taquitos, he knows those are her favorites, and he tries the big chicken ones that are new to the menu.

“Mmm,” he moans.

She smiles at his obvious pleasure.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Are those the ones with pineapple?” Daisy asks.

“Pastor,” he replies, feeling very fastidious about his pronunciation.

She makes a disgusted face. “Elena tried to get me to eat those,” she says. “Not for me.”

She looks so uncharacteristically relaxed right now. He loves seeing that, he doesn’t think it has really happened in his presence since they started working together again, since Daisy stopped running away from him and Mack. 

Coulson just watches her for a while, as she concentrates on her food, obviously too hungry for manners, licking her fingers all the time, and he is glad she can be careless of such things in his presence. For a moment she almost looks happy. Coulson tries hard not to push her to think she should, be happy, not with what happened to her, and what’s happening to her people right now, the way the world is behaving. He knows happiness is not important right now, or possible for her, maybe. Relaxed, content for a moment, that’s enough. More importantly, that she feels safe somewhere.

They finish their food way too soon, Coulson feels, not wanting this day to end .

“These were excellent, thank you,” Coulson says.

He’s not much for takeouts but El Pescado Loco has become comfort food for him, and Daisy knows it, she clearly thought this through.

“Of course. Tacos is the least I could for my boyfriend on his birthday,” she declares, like it’s some universal rule.

Coulson feels his cheeks go hot with some stupid, unfair pang of happiness at her words.

“It’s the first time you call me that,” he points out. He almost promised himself he wouldn’t but at the last moment he can’t resist.

Daisy doesn’t freeze up like he expected.

“I know, I’m full of surprises today,” she teases.

There’s a bit of doubt in her smile. Not that noticeable, just something out of the corner of his eyes. He reaches out and squeezes her knee for a brief moment. He knows it would be unfair to ask her to be this completely open person right now, after what happened with her last lover. More than that, after her last lover wasn’t there for her while he was alive - Coulson never wanted to pry but he is not an idiot, he knew what was going on in those days. He never wants to make Daisy feel like she did in those days.

“Don’t push yourself,” he tells her.

He is about to withdraw his hand from her leg when Daisy catches his fingers in her hand, squeezing them back. She is holding his gaze and Coulson can tell it’s taking her a bit of effort to do that.

“I know you think I’m doing this just to do something, or some kind of rebound, or comfort, I don’t know, _whatever_ ,” she looks away for a moment. “I don’t know what’s in your head. But it’s not it.”

“You don’t have to explain,” he tells repeats.

Now she looks a bit impatient, even annoyed, at him.

“Coulson, you’re way too important for me. No one else… It could never just be _a thing_ with you, you get that?” She pauses, searching his face. Coulson gives her a little nod. She makes a gesture with her hand, like she can’t explain herself well enough and just wants to be done with it. They have never really talked about their _relationship_ , as it were. “It’s not just a thing, but I’m still getting used to it. Be patient.”

He stares at her for a moment too long.

“ _Phil._ ”

She narrows her eyes at him. “What?”

“Would you call me Phil? It’s my birthday, after all.”

He gives her a pleading, pathetic smile, taking his hand again.

“Phil… are you my boyfriend or what?”

He frowns. “That’s romantic.”

Daisy laughs. The sound in itself feels to him another gift.

“I knew you’d like that,” she says. Then, more playfully: “Or I could run the shower for you again.”

He can’t help a little snort at the idea. Oh Daisy.

“I think you are forgetting exactly how old I turn today.”

She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him against her mouth. It’s pretty gross, a taco-flavored kiss. Coulson doesn’t mind.

 

+

 

He doesn’t want to fall asleep but his body has its own plans, bailing out after the long, confusing day.

He’s spread on the couch, Daisy lying on top of him, resting her head on the crook of his shoulder, looking a bit small wearing that t-shirt that is clearly not hers. She is heavy on top of him. Nice. After a few minutes of sloppy, juvenile makeouts they have just settled into this silent cuddling, both of them coming down from their respective missions. Coulson resents his body for wanting to go to sleep so immediately - it is rare that they find enough time together for a luxury like this, even rarer that Daisy lets her guard down like this. Coulson gets why, tries not to make her feel like he needs more from her than she is willing to give. She has had enough people in her life needing, needing, needing, and resenting her for not emptying herself for them.

He sighs contentedly, Daisy’s weight on his chest just another birthday gift as far as he is concerned. With his last shreds of strength for the day he lifts his hand and feels the short hair at the back of her neck, still damp from the shower.

“When do you have to leave?” he asks. Without bitterness. He knows her mission is a priority. For him as well. Despite romance novels telling you love is wanting to be locked up in a room and forgetting the world outside, Coulson disagrees vehemently. At least with Daisy it’s not. Love is working towards a common goal, and wanting her to be proud of what he’s become.

“I don’t have to leave yet,” she says, stroking his hair. “It’s your birthday, after all.”

She sounds tired. She’s probably hasn’t slept in a day, getting here and shaking the tails. And here he was imposing on her. He strokes her hair, trying to lull her to sleep. She deserves some rest. 

“Did you have fun?” Daisy asks him, in a voice that reminds Coulson of his mother, who would always ask that after every birthday party organized, sounding anxious that she might have made a mistake. Daisy must have grown up surrounded by the same kind of anxiety, foster parents who tried too hard and asked that question a lot, that’s where she must have picked it up.

He runs his hand down her back, pulling her closer.

He remembers her asking him to be her boyfriend, like it’s something that happened years ago instead of half an hour, or rather like something that happened in a dream. A very nice dream, the kind Coulson haven’t had in years.

“It was perfect, thanks,” he says, making the words against her hair.

“ _Perfect_ , mmm.”

Daisy turns the word on her tongue, like he has just told her that she is, perfect. He should have, Coulson thinks, making a mental note to tell her when he wakes up.


End file.
